the prison of their making:an after-thought

i don't know how i birthed you

it was as if my heart split

and venom spilled out

i don't know what mother i was

don't know which breast i nursed you on

was it anger, was it fear, was it both

i don't know 

i know i broke for freedom

bent the bars compressing my soul

set free my lungs

and began to breathe in truth